


Shimmer

by panisdead



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panisdead/pseuds/panisdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the <em>hell</em> are you wearing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shimmer

**Author's Note:**

> For Helen, with best wishes and mucho affection, from Panisdead. Based on [this entry](http://helenish.livejournal.com/131022.html) of Helenish's. Thanks to Kormantic for looking it over and fixing my egregious homonym mistake.

The first night the fall temperatures on Atlantis dipped down below freezing, John had spent the entire day on the mainland digging post holes with Teyla, Ronon, and a squad of burly, ego-driven Marines, so when the wind from the open bedroom window chilled his ears and bare shoulders and set his stiffening back muscles to aching, he could barely rouse himself enough to whimper and burrow deeper under the covers.

"I told you to take some horba root before you went to bed," Rodney said, tugging the quilt up over John's shoulders and pressing a cool hand to his sunburned nape. The soft, golden light from the wall sconce made Rodney's arms shimmer like fairy dust, which was weird, thought John, weird and pretty, and he slid back into sleep to the feel of Rodney absently stroking his hair.

The next morning there was frost on the windowsill and rimming the vents in the bathroom, which John noticed when he leaned over to spit out his native Pegasus galaxy herb toothpaste and his back seized up, leaving him cursing and spasming on the floor.

"What did I say about the horba root?" Rodney groused, strong hands working the cramps out of John's muscles while John held onto the edge of the bed to provide a counter-stretch and groaned. "Anyway, I would have thought you'd have learned your lesson after the plow incident, Sheppard. When it comes to manual labor, you're copper in a titanium alloy world. Shift up a bit, I'll get your trapezius while I'm at it," and the resulting pain drove all memories of Tinkerbell arms and fairy dust right out of John's head.

He didn't remember at any point during the rest of the crisp, cloudless day, either; but John never thought about night time when the sun was up. Since the secession, the Atlantis expedition had moved haltingly toward self-sustenance, but it was a hard-scrabble life, brutal for all its rewards. John liked to hoard the nights, with their soft beds and soft light and Rodney, liked to gather them in as a secret comfort, a small, safe world apart. So the next time it occurred to him to wonder about the half-remembered shimmer of fabric over the corded muscle of Rodney's forearms was much later that night, when he startled awake to Rodney snorting at his open laptop in disgust.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you, it's just I was momentarily overcome by the seething tide of moronitude sweeping my staff this week," Rodney said, gesturing at the screen with the air of a man regarding a yam upon which had appeared the face of the Virgin Mary. "Simmons actually thinks we should reconfigure the remains of jumper four into a primitive blast furnace. As if the most immediate, necessary use for the heating coil would be _smelting._ "

"I like smelting," said John distractedly, staring at the sweep of silky fabric over Rodney's chest, then mentally shook himself. "What the _hell_ are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" Rodney said, stretching his arms out in front of him so the light danced over the warm gold of the material. "I got it from Lorne's latest trading run, it's a bed jacket."

John looked at the softly draping long sleeves, at the broad, bare expanse of Rodney's stomach and the abbrieviated length of the garment, and then, incredulously, at Rodney. "It's a shrug," he said, lip curling in distaste.

"Oh, _now_ who's effeminate," Rodney huffed, rolling his eyes. "Who cares, Joan Rivers, it keeps my shoulders warm."

"It's _gold,_ " John tried.

"Well, Lorne got it from the Etresians, you know how they are about earth tones," Rodney said, examining his arms contentedly, preening. "I think I look rather regal."

"But--" It was late, and John had been sound asleep not five minutes ago, and for no reason at all he found himself perilously close to whining over the way the stupid shiny fabric of the shrug caught the light and glittered as it stretched over Rodney's big stupid shoulders. "You could just close the window. Or wear the blanket."

Rodney sighed again. "Without adequate ventilation the heat in this place dries out my sinuses, and if I'm wearing the blanket, _you_ get cold," he said, shutting down the laptop and leaning over to set it on the nightstand. "Jesus, Sheppard, why are we still talking about this?" He rolled over suddenly, pinning John to the bed beneath him.

"N-no reason," John said, breath hitching at the cool sweep of silk over the sensitive insides of his wrists. "But it _is_ kind of chilly in here."

"Not for long," Rodney said, and kissed him.

END.

**Author's Note:**

> Remixed by Seperis [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/23977).


End file.
